


Touch Starved

by outofordxr



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anorexia, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, References to Depression, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Trans Male Character, will add more tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-10 01:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16460996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outofordxr/pseuds/outofordxr
Summary: A self-indulgent D:BH fanfiction.Logan Sheperd heard of the past events in Detroit, a city no more than 30 minutes away from him. The Android revolution had somehow led to him coming to possess a decommissioned RK800 named Connor. The plastic man seems to be a lot more helpful than Logan first expected, and it's a bit annoying if he were being honest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ninez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninez/gifts).



> Welcome to another fan fiction where I basically give myself a new name and pretend it isn't me!
> 
> Wanna know what I was listening to while writing? https://open.spotify.com/user/kingsyrasms/playlist/2E12An9gfVgjz09JtjTh1R?si=8yAu-uxWSl6WE9esFgIbsA

**_Tuesday, 18 January, 2039 4:12 pm //_** **_Detroit, MI_**

I watched the houses pass by, taken by nature or fire over the decade. The highway branched off and my mom took the exit, focused on the road. She really shouldn’t have been driving at this age, but I allowed it after a long conversation months ago. She also shouldn’t be adopting things without consulting me, really. Yet here we were, on our way to the Detroit Police Department’s precinct to retrieve some orphaned robot that the cops didn’t want.

Before long we were passing the Cobo Center in the heart of Detroit, and pulling into a more technologically advanced faction of the city. I looked down at the map on my phone and checked the streets around us, searching for the correct sign.

“It should be on the left.” I said, loud enough for my mom to hear. She pulled into the parking lot and found a spot. I opened the door and looked back at her. “Stay here, I’ll be back with him in a second.”

“I’m not made of glass--”

“Ma,” I say firmly, raising a brow. “This will literally take five minutes. Stay in the car.”

Before she could protest, I closed the door and made the hike in to the precinct through the snow. I hugged myself against the cold, and sighed at the warmth the building provided once I was inside. I approached the receptionist; a woman with a blinking blue LED on her temple, sitting at a computer. She smiles at me when I stop at the desk, and I smile back, though mine was not as thorough as her’s.

“My name is Logan Shepard. I’m here to pick up a decommissioned unit.”

“I will alert it,” she nods, her temple glowing yellow momentarily. “Please take a seat.”

I nod and find a seat adjacent to the desk, glancing around at the androids and humans milling the lobby. My hat was drenched from melted snow, and I was irritatingly aware of it as the water trickled down my neck. A young man approached me--an android--and sat beside me, studying me. I was highly uncomfortable, and after a few moments I finally turned to stare at him.

“Can I help you?”

“My name is Connor,” he began, voice neutral and unwavering. “And you are Logan Shepard, correct?”

“Yeah.” I glanced away, discomfort only growing.

“I detect an elevation in your heart rate, perhaps from anxiety.” Connor smiled stiffly. “I assure you that I am not a threat. I am the decommissioned RK800 model that you have come to pick up.”

Realization hit me like a truck and I felt so stupid. Chuckling to myself, I pat his shoulder softly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was you. I didn’t expect someone so...formal. The description posted said you were a deviant.”

“I was not programmed to convey certain emotions and therefore do not show the common traits of deviancy.” He explained, as I stood up. He followed pursuit and I looked around awkwardly.

“Is there some sort of adoption form I need to sign?” I asked.

“No worries. I have already been transferred to an account under your name,” Connor answered as if he expected the question. “Or rather, your mother’s name. A CyberLife account has been created for you free of charge, and I can show you how to look at the dashboard of your account if you have a suitable device at your residence.”

“Okay. Let’s go,” I nodded, starting toward the door of the precinct. I heard Connor’s footsteps behind me signaling his compliancy. It felt weird to order someone around, and my brain struggled to grasp the idea of androids being workers instead of living beings with potential free will. I paused just as we reached the car, an old 2018 Ford pick up truck, and I opened my mouth to ask Connor a question. I decided against it and got in to the passenger side of the car. It took the RK800 a moment to realize that he had to sit in the back.

My mom glanced in the rearview mirror at our new guest, before pulling out of the parking lot. Connor leaned forward, and addressed her, “My facial recognition system tells me that you are Logan’s mother, Hera Murphy. My name is Connor.”

“I kind of figured,” Ma mumbled, pulling back on to I-94 and merging in to the fast lane. “I remember what your headshot looked like on the website.”

I rolled my eyes at her stoicism, looking out the window.

**_Tuesday, 18 January 2039 6:45pm // Ypsilanti, MI_ **

I stirred the pot of boiling water on the stove, minding my business to the best of my abilities. Connor was standing beside me, looking between the window and I. He was...curious. I glanced at him self-consciously, feeling more like the outsider than him.

“Could you get me the salt?” I asked, nodding to the shaker. He scoots behind me and places a hand on my waist gingerly, to pick up the white cracked shaker and pour it for me into the water. My hand paused as soon he touched me, my brain overworking to decide how I felt. Part of me revelled in the feeling while the other part froze up in anxiety. Then it was gone.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” Connor said from beside me, still close enough for me to feel the warmth radiating from him. “Your heart rate increased by ten beats per minute. Are you alright, Logan?”

“I-I’m fine,” I clammed up, placing a lid on the saucepan and slipping away from the space he trapped me in. I started to do the three dishes in the sink, trying to distract myself. “I have orthostatic hypotension, so I’ve probably just been standing for too long.”

He watches me, and I can see his LED beating yellow out of the corner of my eye. I look up, feeling irritated. Connor looked thoughtfully at me, and I had to look back down at my shaking hands.

“ _ What? _ ” I snap, trying to take a breath.

“Imbalances in your hormones tell me that you have suffered from orthostatic intolerance for a while as well as--”

“It doesn’t matter.” I say, sighing and turning the sink water off. I look up at the android and narrow my eyes. “Can you stop analyzing me or whatever?”

“Affirmative.”

“Thank you.”

I turn the stove off and continue to make dinner for my mom and I. Connor makes himself busy and looks at the pictures on the fridge. It only takes a second for me to react when water splashes out of the colander I pour the noodles in to and scalds my hand. I hiss and turn the tap on again to a lukewarm temperature, before running it over my burn. Connor is at my side again, LED blinking an anxious yellow before returning to blue. I ignore the sign that he hasn’t ceased analyzing me and grumble at myself for the burn.

“I’m fine, Connor.”

I finish up in the kitchen and take a bowl of food to my mom, who was sitting in her bedroom and watching TV. I make myself comfortable in the living room and turn the television on in the room, simply for noise. Connor stood beside the couch and watched me pick at my pasta. I ran a hand through my shaggy hair, only to flick a hand full of my hair away.

“Sit some place, you’re making me feel weird.” I say, finally stabbing a noodle and taking a reluctant bite. The mechanical man sat beside me, and stared at the TV screen for a second. I couldn’t see his temple but I had a feeling it was flashing yellow, like usual.

I pushed my food around before sitting back and sighing. Connor looked at me before speaking, “I sense your hesitancy to finish your meal. Perhaps I could make you something more...appetizing.”

“No,” I huff, a bit quicker than I needed to be. “I’m just not very hungry.”

Before he could say whatever he was going to say, I cut him off. God, I want the subject to not be me.

“So, what exactly is a deviant?”

Connor gave me a look before turning to face the area before us. His voice was the same as usual, yet he looked uncomfortable for some reason. He inhaled softly, which threw me off. Androids didn’t need to breathe...do they?

“An android begins to experience deviancy when errors begin to corrupt it’s programming. It causes the android to experience similar processing to that of a human, such as emotions and whims...wants...lust…” The way his tongue curled around the word caught my attention and I looked down at my meal, hastily shoveling a forkful of carbs in to my mouth and nearly choking. After a minute, I regained my composure and turned to him.

“You say the feelings are errors…”

“Correct.”

“Do you think they could actually be feelings instead of bugs?”

Connor blinked, as if he hadn’t thought of that before. I wondered if he actually hadn’t. He was quiet for a long time, and after a while I heard his internal cooling fans whir to life. I chuckled lightly and pat his shoulder, feeling ashamed for giving him such a hard time.

“Don’t think so hard about it,” I smirked. “It’s just a question, Connor. May I ask another one?”

“Of course.”

“Is there anything you like?”

“I…” He looks at me, temple flickering yellow. His eyes were round and soft and  _ so _ human. “I like dogs. I enjoy the stimulation that so called ‘brain games’ provide. I enjoy watching movies. I like when I am called by name instead of my model number. I like emotions.”

I study him for a second, breath caught in my throat. I lick my lips before standing up and taking my half touched pasta to the kitchen. Connor follows me, of course, and I could tell from the tension he gave off that he was trying hard not to voice his observations.

“I need to take a shower,” I said, leaning on the counter. “Could you keep an eye on my mom? If she says she’s in pain, she has medicine on her dresser. Please come get me if something happens, like she falls or goes unresponsive due to something other than sleep.”

“Yes, Logan.”

*

**_Tuesday 18 January 2039 10:27 pm // Ypsilanti, MI_ **

I sat on the couch, staring blankly at the television, not actually retaining any of the knowledge that it provided. My hair still wasn't dry yet, and I had only seen Connor a few times since I got out of my bathroom. A large blanket was wrapped around my shivering form, my body unable to bear the winter even inside a building.

“Logan,” I jumped and glanced up at Connor, who stood in the doorway. He was still wearing his CyberLife garb, all neon blue lights and grey fabric. “Would you like me to increas the temperature on the thermostat?”

“N-no,” I chattered, hugging myself tighter. I looked away, irritated and jealous at his ability to self regulate his temperature. “I don't feel like having the bills skyrocket for my sake.”

He took a second to process this, before joining me on the couch. I watched him as he looked at the TV and then back at me. I just stared back at him, eyes searching his square face. He always had this look on his face like he was sad about something, but I figured it was just the facial structure. My curiosity got the best of me, and when it did, the somber look deepened.

“Connor, why were you decommissioned?” My voice startled me, not processing as my own until after the words flowed out of my mouth. He almost looked surprised at first.

“I was no longer needed.”

“I doubt that,” I scoffed. “These days androids are almost always needed for something--”

“I no longer served the purpose I was programmed for.” Connor interrupted, throwing me off guard. All the android I had met usually let everyone finish their thought. He continued, looking down at his lap as he fidgeted. It made him seem even more human, as if he were thinking about something personal instead of a pre programmed instruction. “The RK800 model was created specifically designed for tasks inside the law. It was produced as a prototype to hunt down deviants and neutralize them.”

“ _ You _ were made as a prototype.” I corrected him. He glanced at me as if unsure.

“Yes,” he murmured. “ _ I _ was instructed to neutralize deviants deemed threatening, which at the time was all deviated androids. I was to end the revolt months ago.”

I blinked, remembering the events and became absolutely perturbed as to how this specialized machine fell into my family's ownership. This still didn't explain why he was decommissioned, unless…

“I was to finish my mission,” he stated. “And then I was going to be deactivated to allow the RK900 to take my place.”

“Like, a version two-point-oh?”

He hummed in agreement. He almost looked ashamed of himself. Connor must have felt...or perceived the feeling of guilt. I sat up and perched a shaking hand on his shoulder, earning a curious look from the android.

“You realize that you are an individual, right?” I ask, eyebrows cocked upward. He just blinked, LED flashing red to yellow. “I mean… Sure. You can spout that garbage about being mass produced, but Connor, you are your own being. You must feel independence in some form, right? The RK900 model will never replace you. You're an individual idea in someone's mind, and you can't be meshed together with another just because you weren't deemed useful on the force.”

Either the lighting was playing tricks on me or his eyes actually widened at the reasoning. I watched him as he simply stared at me, lips parted and temple flashing yellow as if he were scrambling to store the information I just provided. His eyes looked glassy almost, as if he was overworking to lubricate them.

“Logan,” he said my name as if it were fact. “May I engage in a hug with you?”

I swallowed, face burning as I realized what he was requesting.

“My research informs me that it will warm you.”

My shoulders relaxed, my brain reeling still. I was thankful that he was just trying to look out for my well being. I nodded jerkily and he pulled my upper torso closer. His arms and chest were comforting and I nearly flinched from it. He was very warm however, almost like he were feverish.

“Why do you still wear your assigned uniform if you deviated?” I ask curiously.

“I suppose you could say that I feel...pride. I am proud of being an android, so it does not bother me to continue wearing my badges.” He answered, getting quicker with responding to my questions. “However, I have no use for them now…”

I chewed my lip for a beat and just leaned on him, getting sleepy from the comfort. Finally, I spoke, “I’ll take you to the store tomorrow for something warmer than a button down and slacks.”

“I have no perception of temperature.”

“I don’t give a shit. I need an excuse to buy warm oversized clothes.”

“If you insist,” Connor squeezed me as if forcing me to sop up his warmth. “I also request we stop by a CyberLife Center so I may get an upgrade to integrate easier in to the public. I’ve located a center 4.1 miles from our location, it will open at 7 o’clock am tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds good to me.” I mumbled softly, eyes drifting close. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d fallen asleep this early let alone held like this while falling asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for eating disorder mention, suicide mention, and flashbacks.

**_Wednesday 19 January 2039 12:37pm // Ypsilanti, MI_ **

“Logan.”

My eyes open and I squint, blinking sun out of my eyes. I look up in to deep chocolate-y eyes, and roll off of the sofa. I yelp as my ass hits the floor and I groan. Connor sat on the couch, watching me. His LED flickers blue and he reaches out to help me.

“ _ Don’t _ .” I say dangerously, holding a hand up. He paused and sat back, and suddenly I remembered falling asleep on him. My cheeks brighten and I stand hastily.

“Your heart rate has picked up again,” Connor states, and I sigh. “I will go get you a glass of water. Research suggests that proper hydration helps.”

“I’m fine.” I insist, standing up and adjusting my clothing. Connor’s eyes grazed my naked arms and I felt vulnerable under his artificial gaze. It felt like his eyes left goosebumps in their wake and I hated it yet basked in the crawling sensation. “Can you administer my mom’s morning medication while I get dressed?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

After I was ready, Connor and I started our trek to the bust stop, snow crunching underneath my boots. The sun was warm through the cold January weather, making the world sparkle around the android and I. I glanced at Connor, who scanned and scanned and scanned. His profile was precise and his lips softened in an angelic way. I wanted to slip a hand in to his, to feel his equivalent of a pulse.

I looked back at the sidewalk, thinking about what hugging him properly felt like. Wondering if he was far enough in to deviancy to feel what he said last night.  _ Whims… Wants… Lust… _ I nearly punched myself, almost ejecting last nights dinner from pure disgust at myself. Connor took notice at my tension and grabbed my arm to stop me. I stopped, jerking my hand away.

“ _ What? _ ” I yelp, embarrassed of myself.

“After searching, I have come to a conclusion,” he said softly, looking away. “It could potentially make you feel better about--”

“Connor,” I snap, turning toward him. “I told you to _stop_ _analyzing me_.”

“I-I know, but--”

“But nothing, Connor!” I say, eyes furrowed in frustration. I was...scared. I was terrified of whatever he had figured out. “Let’s just go get this upgrade.”

He looked like a puppy and I slumped, feeling terrible. I gave in and grabbed his jacket, pulling it closed in the cold weather. Connor watched my hands before placing one of his own on mine, and just holding it. He was quiet for a while and I ignored my pounding heart.

“I feel…”

I look up at him, perplexed, but curious about the answer.

“I feel that I must discuss with you...what I’ve found.” Connor looked up at my face and I felt my face heat up in the way that it does before I cry. I really didn’t want him to tell me what I already knew.

“Alright,” I gulped, nose burning. “Shoot.”

“You suffer from orthostatic hypotension, sinus bradycardia, lack of appetite, depression, lethargy--”

“Okay, I get it.”

“This leads me to believe that you have anorexia nervosa,” Connor said, nearly whispering. I tensed and took a step back, hand still captive in his. “A mental illness with physical effects, commonly characterized by a low body mass index, lack of hunger cues, low body temperature, refusal to keep a healthy lifestyle, and co-occurring health conditions.”

“Thanks for the Wiki-speech, Connor, but this isn’t new information to me.” I mumble.

“I request that you begin to take better care of yourself before it...causes bigger problems.”

“Let’s just go get you that damn upgrade.”

“I will alert the taxi service to assist.” His LED flashes yellow and I roll my eyes, realizing that I was going to be kept under close observation.

The ride to the CLC was painfully quiet, and even with Connor pressing in to my side I found no comfort. I stared out the window as we passed through the residential district and finally reached downtown.

_ “Payment confirmed.” _ The taxi chirped and I got out of the taxi. Connor followed me in to the compact shop and we were out with in an hour and a half. He didn’t seem any different but I knew that there were quite a few differences. I had registered him with some of the options under the partner program and opted in for him to experience senses easier. I wonder if he could feel a difference.

“There is a cafe 130 feet from here.”

“Okay?” I snorted, shivering from the gust of sudden wind. The sun was covered now by light silver clouds. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye and I acted like I didn’t see it, ignoring the tightness in my stomach.

“Logan,” Connor grabbed my elbow, hard enough to keep me in place but soft enough that I knew bruises weren’t imminent. “I insist that you eat something before we travel any further. Your body has already used--”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ say any fucking numbers, Connor.” I growl, yanking away from him and taking the lapels of his gray jacket into my hands. “If I get something, will you leave my eating the fuck alone?”

“If it means you are nourished.”

I glared at him before letting do of his clothing, agitated. We walked to the cafe, someplace I hadn’t stepped in in nearly 13 years. The smell of fresh bread hit me as soon as I entered the brick building, a soft murmur greeting the android and I. Connor picked a tray up off of the counter across from the archway into the dining room and I stared at him in confusion.

“I took the initiative to order your food when I learned of the location.” He smiled stiffly at me and I suddenly want to punch him.

“And if I hadn’t agreed to eating?”

“I was not planning on allowing that to happen.”

“ _ Prick _ .”

We sat down and I stared down at the bowl of oatmeal and glass of water he had ordered for me. I knew realistically how small of a meal it was, and my stomach curled with hunger, but I hated how easily this damn android could basically control me through knowledge and his learned empathy.

*

**_Wednesday 19 January 2039 2:15pm // Ypsilanti, MI [Downtown Faction]_ **

“I still don’t understand why I need a new wardrobe.” Connor mumbled, feeling the fabric of an old t-shirt that probably smelled sweet like a basement. He was almost making a face of disgust, probably scanning everything for bacteria from the previous owners of clothing.

“Because I said so.” I deadpanned, pushing shirts aside to look at each design, judging the shit that people once owned. I scoffed at a few of the images. “Some of these are rad as fuck, who the hell would get rid of them?” A brief pause passed before I added: “Don’t tell me the last owner of this shirt, Connor. I  _ will _ kick your ass.”

I looked at the android and grinned to show him that I didn’t mean it. He had a scowl on his face that melted into a soft smile after I watched his temple cycle yellow. I looked away, feeling the strong urge to grab his hand for extra reassurance. We both continued to search in silence as some shitty throwback played on the thrift store speakers. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Connor pull something off of the rack and hold it out at arm length. I glanced over and snorted.

“I like this tee shirt.” He simply said, looking at me with rose eyebrows.

“Knights of the Black Death?” I chuckled. “I wouldn’t have pegged you the type to listen to hard music.”

“I didn’t listen to it as much as I…” Connor’s brows knit together as he searched for the words. “Applied it to my memories with...a certain  _ friend _ .”

“Ah,” I nodded, noticing the way the corners of his mouth tugged downward. That’s when I reached out to squeeze his forearm to comfort him. “I’ll get it for you, but only if you tell me about them.”

“Yes.”

I smiled, and set the article of clothing in the basket of jeans at our feet. I hummed a little as we kept exploring our options, topping to admire a particular tee shirt with a dumb joke about coding on it.

“Logan?”

“Connor…”

“Thank you.”

I looked at him in shock, not realizing that he had stopped to stare at me. I felt my face heat up and looked away hastily. My ears were hot and probably red as hell.

“May I engage in a hug with you? To show my gratitude.” Connor asked, voice muffled by the blood rushing in my head. I glanced at him for a second, nodding silently. For the second time in the last 24 hours he wrapped his arms around me. I melted in to him, pressing my cheek in to his clavicle and inhaling. He was drenched in the scent of crisp winter winds, and stale cigarette smoke from the men outside.

After checking out, a taxi sat waiting for us in the lot. We got in, and this time I was more comfortable with the close proximity of the android. I stared out the window and played with a lock of my hair. Connor simply watched me, which I seemed to be getting used to quicker than I expected. I looked over at him and offered a smile, which he returned easily.

“So,” I looked down at my hands. “Who was your friend? Why weren’t you transferred to them?”

I noticed his LED beat a dangerous red, and immediately regretted my interrogation of the android. He looked down at his fidgeting hands, and simulated a deep sigh. If he felt a weight in his chest, then I shared it with him. I felt guilty for bringing up a topic that caused him distress.

“His name was Lieutenant Hank Anderson,” Connor said. I vaguely remember seeing the name on the news after the revolution in Detroit, and I swallowed. I very much hated that I brought him up. “He couldn’t take me because he is deceased.”

Connor’s face turned hard like he was fighting whatever he was feeling. I scooted a little closer and put my hand on his, leaning and craning my neck to see his face. His eyes were glassy when I caught a glimpse of them, but the man turned away.

“Connor--”

“I found him… I found him after he passed.” He continued, a concerning calmness neutralizing his voice as if he were relaying case information to me instead of a painful memory. “Ruled a suicide. I had visited him, and disappointed him, and the next morning I found him.”

“Connor, stop.” I croaked, feeling sick. He looked at me, and blinked.

“Apologies,” Connor furrowed his brows, looking through me instead of at me. “I’m sorry, Logan. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, don’t apologize.” I forced a smile. “I brought it up,  _ I’m sorry _ .”

“I forgive you.”

I blinked, feeling dizzy from the phrase.  _ I forgive you. _ I hadn’t heard that since I was at least eight. The vehicle pulled in to my driveway, and chirped when Connor confirmed the payment. We got inside as soon as possible, mostly so I could avoid the cold air.

“I’m gonna wash this shit, just in case.” I said, holding up the bag of clothing. Connor nodded in understanding and I sighed, turning to begin the task. “Can you tidy up a little bit before my mom gets home?”

“Where is she?”

I gave him a look, as if I couldn’t believe the answer: “Classes.”

*

**_Friday 12 November 2038 9:23pm // Ypsilanti, MI_ **

_ “The Detroit Police Department has just issued a statement honoring Lieutenant Hank Anderson,” the television played. Logan sat and watched it, concerned for Detroit’s state. About 24 hours earlier, androids and humans alike had been dying in the snowy streets. Wayne, and Washtenaw County had been on lockdown, officers patrolling the grid to stop any deviants from attempting escape or even murder. “Anderson was found yesterday afternoon, dead in his residence--” _

_ Logan shut the TV off, and buried his face in his hands. Memories flooded his head, of bones and sirens. A migraine bloomed behind his eyes and he sighed, standing to take any kind of medicine to help him sleep or relax. He eyed the cocktail in his palm, and exhaled heavily before throwing the tablets back and washing them down with water. _


End file.
